


Those Few Light Kisses We Shared in Indianapolis

by bry0psida



Series: Harringrove Advent [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Inference to Period Typical Homophobia, Light Angst, Light-Hearted, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21658669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bry0psida/pseuds/bry0psida
Summary: Steve and Billy drive to Indianapolis for the Circle of Lights.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove
Series: Harringrove Advent [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558885
Comments: 3
Kudos: 76





	Those Few Light Kisses We Shared in Indianapolis

“I never drive my own car anymore;” Steve complains. “I’m starting to worry I’ve forgotten how.”

“Is it the car you miss, or driving in general?” Billy asks.

“Little bit of both? Mostly driving.”

Billy chuckles to himself. “Really? You miss your dad’s car?”

“How’d you know it was my dad’s?”

“What teenager can afford their own 733i BMW? Let alone chooses a _maroon_ one.”

“My car’s fine.” Steve mutters defensively.

“For suits like your dad, sure.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong.” Steve replies.

They sit in silence for a while, listening to the fourth track on the mixtape Billy made.

“You can drive back, if you want.”

Steve’s brows shoot up. “This car that we’re in right now? The car you’re driving?” Billy nods, right index and middle fingers tapping out the beat on the steering wheel. “Your Camaro, _the_ Camaro?!”

Billy smiles a lazy smile, laying his left hand atop Steve’s thigh, just above the knee with a gentle squeeze. “If I knew you liked her so much, might’ve offered to let you take her for a spin sooner.”

Billy turns his head slightly to watch Steve relax into the light touch, watches him tip his face to the roof, eyes closed, pink lips parted on a relaxed sigh. _So easy to please_ , Billy thinks.

“I only like your car because you’re the one driving it;” Steve says, “It’d look wrong with anyone else behind the wheel, this was made for you.”

Billy doesn’t know what to say to that, so he asks: “Does that mean you don’t wanna drive back?”

Steve turns his head to look at Billy, a steady role of the neck that angles his face in the same light as when Billy woke up to it that morning. “Oh, I’m _definitely_ driving back.”

…

They listen to the mixtape once and make it halfway through Pyromania by Def Leppard when they get to Indianapolis, finishing the album by the time they find a parking spot.

The wind is biting when they get out of the car, the streets busy. Everyone and their mother is out for the Circle of Lights.

Steve links their arms in the midst of the crowd. Billy moves to sever the link when the people around them begin to disperse at an intersection. Steve sighs as they part.

They walk in discontented silence. In any other city, maybe, but even people from a tiny town like Hawkins are making the trip to see the lights. It’s a risk they can’t take. Still, it feels good for Billy to be in a city again. The bustling people and backed up traffic are familiar enough he doesn’t feel the need to mention the temperature.

It’s a short walk to Monument Circle. Tourists, towns-folk and city goers alike mingle on the crowded streets. When they arrive, they’re at the very edge of the waiting crowd, more and more people joining the throng behind and around them like the tide encroaching on the beach.

“View’s not great.” Billy complains.

“It’s not bad.”

“No, but I think we can do better than this.” Billy’s eyes scan the surrounding area, finding nothing suitable. Then he remembers the multi story garage they drove past. “I have an idea.”

Steve arches a brow. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, c’mon.” Billy holds a gloved hand out to Steve, who double takes before his eyes dart around the surrounding faces.

“What’re you doing, Bill?”

“Don’t wanna lose you in the crowd. I saw some other guys doin’ it, we’ll be fine.”

Steve presses his lips together and nods, taking the offered hand with palpable unease.

“We’ll be okay, promise.” Billy reassures as he leads Steve away from the bodies and back to the road.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Billy releases Steve’s hand when they round the corner leading to the garage, looking back frequently to make sure they aren’t separated.

Steve is grinning when Billy next turns as they head into the garage. “This is definitely one of your better ideas; it’s gonna look awesome up there. Cutting it pretty close, though.”

Billy checks his watch. “We’ll make it if we hurry.”

They jog the seven flights of stairs in record time, emerging onto the seventh level red cheeked and short of breath with a minute to spare. Billy thanks god or the devil or whoever made it so they’re the only people who had the bright idea to come up here.

They huddle together at the edge of the lot between cars where the view is unobstructed. The monument is bathed emerald green from the surrounding light displays.

Billy takes Steve’s hand again, flips it over and kisses his exposed wrist. Steve just beams at him, eyes crinkling, and suddenly Billy’s ragged breathing has nothing to do with the cold or exertion.

It’s an honest to god struggle for Billy to tear his gaze from Steve’s beautiful face when the distant chanting of the final ten seconds of the count-down starts, but he didn’t drive two (ish) hours in the snow solely to stare at his boyfriend. _I would, though,_ Billy thinks.

Billy can hear the little gusts of breath coming from Steve as he mouths the numbers near silently, even over the voices carried on the wind.

The monument morphs from green to gold as the lights illuminate all at once. The distant crowd cheers and claps. He clutches Steve’s hand, kisses his neck . For a moment he pretends the crowd is cheering for them. Billy spares the display one more glance, looking away when the cheers die down in favour of studying the joy on his boyfriend’s face.

There’s snow caught on Steve’s eyelashes, small flakes in the strands of hair spilling from underneath his hat. His cheeks are pink as his wind-chapped lips.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Steve says.

“It is;” Billy agrees, gaze unwavering.

**Author's Note:**

> I have not been to the Circle of Lights, spent a lot of time googling it. Here's a great [picture](https://indianaalbum.pastperfectonline.com/photo/77083A53-5D87-4557-9261-742750878414) I found of the monument lit up from 1980.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed reading this at least half as much as I did writing it.
> 
> My [Tumblr](https://bry0psidawrites.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bryopsida)


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